


let's keep warm till it's day

by seren_ccd



Series: always with you [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5338712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s more than enough,” she argues.  “All the fences in the world can’t keep evil out.  And even the deepest ditch can be crossed.”  She bends her head down to catch his eyes.  “It doesn’t mean anything if you’re not around to benefit from it, you know?”  Beth/Daryl.  Sequel to all that we touch becomes ours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's keep warm till it's day

**Author's Note:**

> First off, please note the rating change, we're heading into mature territory! Secondly, thank you so much for following along with this pair of stories. This is the second and final story in this series. I have plans to start an AU with these two very soon, so fingers crossed.
> 
> I've had so much fun diving back into this pairing and I hope you enjoyed it, too!
> 
> The title is from White Lies' 'Farewell to the Fairground'.

“Hold up.”

Beth stops, her head tilted to the side and her eyes firmly on Daryl’s back as he stares at something. A moment passes before she asks, pitching her voice low, “See something?”

He doesn’t move, then jerks his head and they walk across the small stream they’d been following for almost two days.

It had been hard two weeks after leaving the little rec hut. Daryl figured they’d managed between ten and fifteen miles a day. They stuck to the woods and his strong sense of direction, only slipping into towns when they needed to. They struck gold in one town that had a sporting goods store that not only had bolts for Daryl’s crossbow, but a lighter smaller version for Beth that had a rope cocking device attached to it.

“Now, I know I’m getting better at using yours,” she’d said to him. “But there’s no way I’m, what did you call it, dead-lifting 150 pounds.”

He’d just smirked and showed her how to use it. She’s nowhere near as good as he is, but she’s getting better.

Beth figures they passed into December in the last few days and while they haven’t made it to a national park, they’re still out of Atlanta’s reach and have entered the less populated parts of the state. The day before they’d found a small town that had only a smattering of walkers and a decent-sized general store of all things. The store had obviously been looted right after the turn, but no one had ever thought to check the basement. The shelves hadn’t exactly been overflowing, but there were several bags of dried beans and canned preserves as well as some jerky. Beth had loaded her pack up with dried beans and jerky. Daryl had suggested that they find a place to stop for a while that was within a day’s walk of the store, if only because you could never tell if the hunting was going to dry up once winter really hit.

They’d basically walked into the woods across from the town and came across a stream and followed it.

Daryl had suggested to Beth not an hour ago that they’d go a bit further and then head north, but now that he’d seen something…

After crossing the stream, they walk silently into the woods and up a sharp incline of red clay. After several yards, he pushes through some kudzu draped over the limbs of two oak trees; Beth following him.

She comes to an abrupt stop against his back and has to steady herself with a hand on his shoulder as she stares.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Old tobacco barn,” he replies. “Betcha there’s a farm nearby, but this hasn’t been touched in years.”

It’s not big, just a long, thin structure that’s almost completely covered in the back by a mess of green leaves and vines that stretch out along the sides and over the roof. Daryl edges around the side of it and they move to the front. Beth spots a dilapidated house further away. It too is covered in kudzu, at least what’s left of it was covered in kudzu, the middle has long fallen through and only one wall remains upright.

The tobacco barn however….well, it has potential, if the way Daryl’s looking it over is anything to go by.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“What do _you_ think?” he counters.

“It’s further from the store than we originally wanted,” she says slowly. “But it’s by the stream and that little bank is pretty steep. Walkers aren’t that great at climbing up steep stuff.” She shrugs. “Should probably look inside first, make sure no cottonmouths have taken up residence before we make any plans.”

He grunts and stands to the side, letting her get her crossbow ready. She walks quietly up to the door and knocks on it three times.

Nothing.

She glances at him and he nods. Sidling so that she’s against the side of the wall, she opens the door. Daryl moves in quickly and she follows after a beat.

The inside’s fairly empty apart from some wooden tables that are close to falling apart. It’s not big, more like an oversized shed than a proper barn; but has enough space to ‘swing a cat in’ as Beth’s grandmother had been fond of saying. 

Daryl stomps on the floor and Beth looks at him. 

“It’s off the ground,” he says. “Could make an extra exit through the floor, if we wanted.”

“It’s got a hearth,” Beth says walking over to the large fireplace and peering up the chimney. “That’s good, right? Chimney looks clear. All that kudzu might hide some of the smoke.”

She inhales and can swear she smells the lingering scent of tobacco. Glancing back at him, her eye is caught by something else.

“It’s got a loft,” she says going over to stand beneath what must have once held tobacco bales. Looking around, she finds a mostly intact ladder. He helps her get it into place and frowns when she says, “I’m lighter, so I’ll go first. Easier for you to catch me, than for me to catch you.”

“You implying something about my weight, girl?” he asks as he holds the ladder steady.

“As if. All this walking has done wonders for your girlish figure,” she says as she heads up the ladder, snickering when he flicks her backside with his fingers.

The loft is miraculously in one piece and the ladder seems to hold both their weights. There’s a small vent that Daryl pushes open with a grunt. They can see the stream from up here and something settles inside Beth’s chest.

She looks at him and he looks back at her. She raises her eyebrows at him and he nods.

“Yeah, all right,” he says. “It’s probably a good choice. Let’s see if there’s a road to the farmhouse before we move in. Don’t want to be too easily found.”

Beth nods and they head back down. They walk past the fallen farmhouse but the homestead’s been abandoned for so long, what drive there once was is covered in long grass and undergrowth and is no longer noticeable.

As they walk back towards the barn, two rabbits emerge from the long grass and both Beth and Daryl take aim. Their bolts hit true and nearly in sync with the other.

Beth looks at him over her crossbow in awe. “Okay, that was weird and had to be a sign of some kind. We’re staying, Dixon.”

“Looks like, Greene,” was his only reply, but the curve of his mouth belies his easy answer.

The next day, they ransack the old farmhouse for stuff they can use. Beth finds an old iron pot that will be good for cooking as well as a larger pot they could use for storing water for washing. Daryl finds some boards that he uses to shore up the sides of the barn, strapping them where he can with old twine. Beth hesitates over an old pallet but decides that cleaning it would be too much bother. She’d rather sleep on the floor than moldy cotton.

“We’re gonna need some blankets soon,” she says going over to where he’s breaking apart some wooden slats.

He nods. “Head back to the store tomorrow. I’d like a shovel.”

“For a trench?” she asks frowning. She looks around at the quiet spot. “Is that overkill?”

He just looks at her and she sighs and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”

“Yeah,” he says throwing some wood down. “If we stay here for longer than a few days, I wanna do it right.”

“I know,” she says leaning up to kiss his cheek and he turns his head so that his lips just graze her forehead and she smiles at him. “Head out before dawn?”

He nods. “We know the way now, might be able to do it in a day instead of two.”

“I’ll get our packs ready,” she says.

Sure enough, they manage to just make it back to the store by the time night falls. They’d been delayed by walkers at one point, but there were only four of them and they were mostly skin and bones that fell to the ground in dusty heaps. 

Beth loads up on some of the preserves and more dried beans. She’s delighted when she finds some salt to go with them. They a sleeping bag they find in the office and the only two blankets left on the shelves. Daryl’s disappointed that all he can find is a pitchfork and a small shovel, but says he’ll make do.

“It’s our new motto,” Beth says smiling. “We make do.”

He gives her a small smile back and she takes first watch when they bunk down in the store for the night, his head on her thigh and his arms wrapped around her middle.

They don’t encounter a single walker on their walk back and it bothers her more than she’d like.

“Doesn’t seem right,” she says when they stop for a quick break and some jerky.

He shrugs. “We’re getting closer to the mountains. Not as many people out this way. They’re out there though. Don’t think they aren’t.”

They make it back to their barn without incident and immediately fall asleep on their new blankets in the loft, both too tired to even unzip the sleeping bag.

The next morning, Beth starts in on making some bean stew that will last them a few days while Daryl finishes shoring up the sides of the barn, filling in the weaker spots in the wood. He takes some time to get some more rabbits and Beth wonders if there’s a large warren nearby in all the high grass.

Daryl takes first watch and Beth’s asleep before she knows it.

The next few days are spent in the same way. They get up at dawn, check the perimeter, replenish the water, set up snares near the stream, and head back to the barn. Beth does most of the cooking and helping Daryl with the trench he’s setting up near the front of the barn. The incline up from the stream is deterrent enough, but the other side’s pretty flat.

They spend a good day with Daryl breaking up the earth that’s quickly getting hard and cold, while Beth uses the smaller shovel to move the broken up dirt to the side.

They’ve made a lot of progress, but when she sees him wincing over dinner later, she has to say something, “Don’t you dare be hurting yourself when you don’t have to, Daryl Dixon.”

His eyes flicker up to hers and then back down to his rabbit stew. “Ain’t.”

 _Lord, give me strength,_ she thinks as she says, “You are. The trench is almost done and winter’s almost here. Don’t break your back over something that’s so close to being done.”

He shrugs, hiding another wince and keeps his eyes firmly on his stew. She’s not surprised by him. He’s always been the one to make sure things are safe and she’d bet a dozen rabbits that he’s found some way to blame himself for their close call at the funeral home. She’s also fairly sure that nothing she says is going to do much good. 

_But_ , a voice says in her head. _Maybe something you_ **do** _might_.

Beth thinks that particular thought over as she stares at the top of his head and wonders what she’s going to do with his stubborn self.

* * *

__

Beth has her hands deep inside the carcass of another rabbit when Daryl staggers in and re-bolts the door. She freezes where she is and looks him over.

“Oh, dear,” she says taking in all the sweat and dirt and lines around his face. “You look done in.”

“Ditch is done,” Daryl says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing dirt across it.

“I said I’d help you,” Beth says going over to him and practically forcing him to sit down by the hearth. She wipes her hands off and then grabs one of their water bottles freshly filled that morning and shoves it into his hands. “Told you that you were doing too much.”

He shakes his head before drinking half the bottle. “Ain’t enough.”

“It’s more than enough,” she argues. “All the fences in the world can’t keep evil out. And even the deepest ditch can be crossed.” She bends her head down to catch his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything if you’re not around to benefit from it, you know?”

He stares at her for a moment, then nods and presses his forehead to hers for a moment. “Need to do what I can, though.”

“I know,” she says smiling. “Just take it easy tomorrow, okay? Ditch is done, so stop worrying on that. You aren’t a spring chicken anymore.”

“Hey, now,” he says tugging on her hair. “That ain’t right. Kickin’ a man when he’s worn out.”

She grins and kisses his cheek before getting to her feet. “Poor baby. Here. Have some food and I’ll give you a massage.”

“You’ll what?” he asks, looking startled.

“I’ll massage your back,” she says over her shoulder as she stirs in the rabbit into the beans already on the boil, happy that she’s found a way to make sure he knows she appreciates how much he does for them without having to actually say the words. “That’s what’s aching, right?”

“Uh, yeah, but you don’t have to-“

“I can do it over your shirt, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says quietly, glancing at him.

He stares back and she holds his gaze. He looks away first and Beth goes back to her stew.

“Is it…better without it? The shirt?” he asks, his voice small and quiet.

Beth pauses and very definitely doesn’t look at him and does her best to stay casual. “Usually. It’s usually better. Mama used to rub Daddy’s shoulders, especially after he’d be fixing the fences. All that repetitive movement, that’s what gets you.”

She can tell he’s thinking it over and so she just goes back to fixing their dinner. As soon as the rabbit’s cooked through, she ladles out the stew. She brings over the bowls and they sit by the fire as they eat.

“Maybe some other time,” he says after a few bites. 

“Okay,” she says evenly, hoping her disappointment is hidden. “Offer stands, though, so. Whenever.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and keeps on eating.

Later that night, she tells him she’ll take first watch. “You nearly broke your back on that ditch,” she says. “The least I can do is go first.”

He must be more tired than he wants to admit, because he just sighs and lies down on the Beth’s managed to create out of the sleeping bag. She settles next to the vent and stares out into the dark forest. Daryl’s restless though and can’t seem to get comfortable.

“Would you get over here?” she asks after watching him toss and turn for the tenth time.

He lifts his head and looks at her, while she just stares back at him, but then he drags the bedding over and lies back down, this time with his head on her thigh.

She gently runs her fingers over his head and he shivers where he lies, but makes no sound and eventually he drops off to sleep.

With him asleep and hours of quiet ahead of her, she lets herself process everything that she’s feeling; namely the fact that she wants to kiss this man silly and wondering if he wants the same.

They haven’t done much more than a brief kisses, that she initiates, or small touches to arms and backs, which he initiates. And it’s wonderful. It’s more than Beth ever thought she’d have in this world and sometimes it reminds her of how her parents were together. How her daddy would pat her mama’s hip when he’d enter and leave the room and her mama would trail her hand across his shoulders.

They’ve become so used to one another and the easy comfort those touches provide fills Beth’s heart with something golden and warm.

But…

And oh, here’s where she’s troubled and trying to figure out if she’s being ridiculous, she wants _more_. She wants his hands on her. She wants his mouth on hers and she wants to feel his skin under her hands and wants to see if his pulse under her tongue was as thrilling as she remembers it being those weeks ago.

She’s so focussed on her thoughts, that when his voice emerges from the darkness saying, “Girl, what are you thinking on that’s got you so riled up? Man can’t sleep while you’re all antsy. What is it?” she actually tells him the truth.

“I’m just wondering if you’re gonna kiss me again,” she says on a sigh. 

She freezes because what is she thinking? And oh, hell, he’s gone all tense.

“Ignore me?” she says in a small voice. “Oh, God. Please ignore me? I’m a silly girl who should really be ignored right now.”

He’s still on her lap, but then he pushes himself up and she stares at him helplessly and she feels so silly and sad that she’s ruined something good and easy and what is he doing?

His mouth touches hers so gently and so quickly, she’s not quite sure what just happened.

She blinks at him and he stares back at her.

“You want me to kiss you again?” he asks.

“More than anything,” she says.

Then his hand is sliding across her cheek and he’s cupping the back of her head and he’s kissing her; his mouth moves across hers so firmly and she smiles against his lips. She can feel the curve of his lips as she hitches a bit closer to him.

It’s lazy and sweet and why on earth hadn’t she said something sooner?

All too soon, he’s pulling back and smiling a little at her.

“You gonna let me get some sleep now?” he asks.

She nods solemnly. “I’m good.”

“Mmm, hmm. Only ever gotta ask, girl,” he says before lying back down on her lap.

She stares down at his head in the dark and then grins, even as she tugs a little on his hair.

* * *

Beth’s starting to get worried.

It’s been over an hour since Daryl headed out saying that he’d be right back, he just wanted to check the snares to see if he’d managed to catch one abnormally wily rabbit that had been slipping out of the snares for the last week.

Beth had snickered and said, “Well, good luck, Elmer Fudd. You catch that wascally wabbit, now.”

He’d frozen halfway out the door before striding back inside to pull her close to him and glare down at her, before kissing the stuffing out of her, leaving her breathless and flushed, while he sauntered (hand-to-God _sauntered_ ) back the way he came and out the front door.

After the other night when she’d actually asked him to kiss her, he’s been doing this. Getting her flustered and hot and she knows it’s his way of keeping some kind of control over the situation and she certainly doesn’t begrudge him that. But, for the love of God, she’s getting a bit tired of feeling so turned on and restless.

Neither of which she’s feeling at this precise moment. No, the overriding emotion that’s consuming her is worry.

Because it’s been an hour.

Over an hour.

It usually takes less than that to check the snares.

 _Maybe he’s tracking something_ , she thinks to herself for the hundredth time as she stirs the beginnings of a bean stew, but she can’t focus on what she’s doing. With a clang, she drops the spoon in the pot as she takes it away from the fire and banks it down. Biting her lip, she grabs her crossbow and makes sure her knife is on her belt and opens the door. She stands under the bent awning after closing the door. She cocks her head to the side and listens.

Nothing.

Her worry increases.

The day is cold and a low-lying mist still lingers despite the morning being halfway over. Setting her shoulders, she closes the door to the barn and sets off towards the forest, heading into the woods, following the stream.

She winds her way past the first two snares and she can tell they’ve been checked and re-set, so she moves on towards the third one.

A shrill scream and frantic rustling close to the ground has her throwing herself behind a tree. Holding her breath, she waits a beat before she looks around. 

A large wild pig is running full pelt in her direction, three little piglets right behind her and three walkers stumbling right behind them. 

Her eyes widen and she’s lifting her crossbow before she even has time to consider things. Her first bolt hits one of the walker’s in the forehead and it falls. She reloads as fast as she can and aims again taking the next one down.

The pig and her piglets are past her now and there’s only the remaining walker to deal with and Beth spares a frantic ‘thank you’ to whomever is listening that walkers are shambling, awkward things as she just has enough time to reload and fire by the time it reaches her.

She’s ripping the arrow out of its head as soon as it’s on the ground and doing the same to the other two bodies.

Panic grips her chest and floods her veins as she heads towards more snarling in the vicinity of the third snare.

She runs.

Another four walkers have their backs to her as they surround something and she can see two already on the ground with bolts through their eyes.

The ‘something’ they surround must be Daryl.

Beth shouts before she can stop herself and two of them turn. She aims and one goes down, as the other stumbles towards her. It’s too close and she grabs her knife and kicks out at its knee. It drops down and she thrusts her knife viciously into the top of its head.  
It’s only then that she looks to Daryl and the relief she feels as she watches him brain a walker with his crossbow threatens to make her fall to her knees. Instead, she comes up behind the remaining walker and once again, kicks the back of its knee and stabs the top of its head.

When the last one falls, she looks around, afraid that she’ll see more emerge from the trees. But there’s nothing. Only the rush of the water in the stream and the creak of the empty branches over their heads.

She finally meets Daryl’s eyes and he’s panting and his face is covered in mud, as are his hands.

“Daryl-“ she gasps out in a shaking, shrill voice. “Are-?”

“Not bit,” he says falling back against a tree and slipping down to sit hard on the ground. “Ain’t bit. S’okay. S’okay.”

“Oh, God,” she says flying to him and cradling his face in her hands. She narrows her eyes. “You look weird. Did you hit your head?”

“Little,” he says his hand going up to hold his side.

“What-?” She ducks her head and pulls his hand away from his side ignoring his ‘Hey, now!’ “What happened?”

“Piglet got stuck in the snare,” he says wincing as she prods his side. “Its foot got caught. Tried to get it loose. Then mama comes outta nowhere and knocks me over. While I’m fighting her off, walkers come out.”

Beth grimaces. “That’s what I thought. I saw the pig and her piglets. She was just protecting her babies.”

“I know,” he says grabbing at her hands and holding them to his chest while he looks at her and it’s only then she realizes her hands are shaking. “It’s fine. Just a bruise and knock against the head. Ain’t bleeding.”

“Yeah, well, how many fingers am I holding up?” she asks as she holds up three.

“Thirty-seven,” he says with a straight face.

“Jerk,” she says rolling her eyes. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wasn’t Bugs, after all,” he says as she helps him to his feet. “God damn Porky Pig.”

Beth stares at him for a moment before she giggles not a little hysterically. “Oh, God, Daryl. You know she could’ve gored the crap out of you. Mama pigs are fierce. Come here.”

“I got it,” he says.

“You don’t ‘got it’,” she says slipping her arm around his waist. “Lean on me, come on.”

“I got it,” he says harshly, jerking away.

It stings. She’s not going to lie, that tone he sometimes gets stings like a wasp. But she knows him by now, so she holds her hands up and takes a step back.

“Fine,” she says calmly. “You got it. Should get back.”

She turns from him and starts to head back towards the barn. She hears him take a step forward and then curse under his breath. 

She’s about five steps away before he says softly, “Beth.”

Turning, she sees him standing favouring his left side and peering at her through his bangs.

“All right,” she says just as softly as she walks back to him. She slips her arm around his waist again. “Come on, tough guy. Lean on me just a little.”

They walk for a ways in silence, away from the walkers and the torn snare.

“Need to reset it,” he mumbles. “Only got two rabbits from the other traps.”

“Later,” she says. “We still have those beans we found. They’ll go a fair ways.”

“Yeah,” he breathes and winces when he stumbles a little. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says keeping a firm hold on him. “Not exactly even ground here.”

“No,” he says stopping her with his arm around her shoulders and looking down at her as she looks up. “I’m sorry.”

 _For being sharp_ , goes unsaid.

Beth just smiles and nods. “I know, it’s okay,” she says. “Try not to do it again?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

“All right,” she says. “Then let’s get a move on, Dixon.”

“Right by you, Greene,” he replies, squeezing her shoulder.

They make their way back to the barn, both with their bows in their free hands while their other arms are occupied with keeping Daryl upright, his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist.

She’s mostly sure he doesn’t have a concussion, as he isn’t stumbling, but he’s definitely in pain if every not-very-well-hidden wince is to go by. Beth pretends to ignore it but she feels something bubbling inside of her and has the sudden premonition that it’s going to explode out of her before the day is over. There’s a mess of feelings still rushing around her insides now that the terror has bled away and the main one is anger. All sorts of anger. Absurd anger at the piglet because of course Daryl would try to free something like that. Anger at the walkers for being everywhere. Anger at men for creating such horrors that can’t be contained in a petri dish and spilled out into the world.

Hell, she’s angry at the world, because how dare it try to take this man from her?

She feels a surge of possessiveness, something hot and strong deep inside her soul that wants nothing more than to get this man back to their shelter such as it is and bar the door. 

Something of what she’s feeling must be written across her face because he mutters, “I’m fine, Greene. Don’t get het up over this.”

“Too late,” she says tightly, tapping her fingers gently on his side so that he hopefully knows it’s not him she’s cross with. “I’m het up and you’re going to have to let me work through it.”

“Well, we ain’t got no booze, so the barn’s safe,” he says and she chuckles, holding even tighter to him.

They cross the stream and he doesn’t bother to hide the wince as he makes his way up the slope to the barn.

“Wish we had some ice,” she says as she gets them inside and sit him down by the banked fire. “Bet you’ve got a bruise the size of Montana.”

“More like the size of Arkansas,” he says rolling his shoulder while she goes over to the pail of water in the corner and wets her yellow polo shirt that she’s been using as a rag.

“Put this on your side,” she says handing it to him. “And keep it there for a little while.” She puts her hands on her hips and stares at him until he does it.

“You gonna watch me?” he asks gruffly.

She makes a face and goes to stoke the fire back up and takes the rabbits he’d caught and goes about cleaning them.

It’s not even noon and she’s already exhausted. When she glances at him, he seems to look more and more uncomfortable just sitting there. She finishes up with the rabbits and put them in the pot with some beans and sets it above the coals.

“You know, my offer still stands,” she says tidying up where she’d been cleaning the rabbits. “I bet this morning didn’t help your back.”

She doesn’t look at him but just keeps moving about and she’s about to sigh and tell him to forget it when he says, “Fine. If you think it’ll help. You can give me a…massage.”

“Don’t have to say it like that,” she says chuckling and doing her best not to get all excited. “It’s a massage, not a root canal.”

“Had a root canal once. Know what that’s like,” he says, his tone wry. “Ain’t never had a massage, though.”

She kicks his foot lightly with hers and says, “Be nice.”

He just smirks and starts to wipe his face with her still damp shirt and she says, “Well, let’s go.”

“What? Now?” he asks rubbing at the back of his neck with her shirt.

“You got anywhere else to be right now?” she asks smiling. “Ditches are done. Snares have been checked. Food’s on the simmer and I don’t know about you, but I thought I smelled rain on the way.”

He frowns. “Yeah. Smelled it, too. Thought I’d hunt something else up.”

“Hey, if you want to go out and get yourself pneumonia on top of bruises and sore muscles instead of staying where it’s dry and getting a nice, relaxing massage by a very willing young woman, well, who am I to stand in your way?” she says leaning against the hearth.

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” he says chuckling. He gets to his feet. “I’m, uh, going to check the perimeter, though. That all right with you, Miz Greene?”

She fights the urge to grin at his hesitance, and just says, “Well, I suppose. There’s more clean water over in the corner, you could rinse off first, get all that dirt off you after your pig wrestling match.”

“Right,” he says before disappearing out the door.

The sun’s never quite made it past the clouds, Beth notices as she makes sure that the stew won’t burn and sure enough she can hear the distant rumble of thunder as the clouds thicken outside. The days are getting significantly shorter and the shortest day must be right around the corner, Christmas along with it, although Beth has no real interest in celebrating. Every day they wake up and move about in this word and then go to sleep again is enough of a celebration for her.

She pauses and has to press the backs of her hands to her cheeks which have started to flush.

“What are you doing, Bethy?” she asks out loud. “Are you really going to go through with this?”

 _Yes,_ a voice that sounds a bit like Maggie says in her head. _You’re a Greene girl and Greene girls do not welch on promises to men who have practically broken their backs keeping you safe._

Beth nods and heads up into the loft. Truth be told, she’s never given a massage to a man before. Her girlfriends, yes, of course, at sleepovers and in chorus class during warm ups, but this? This is different. For a whole host of reasons.

Shoving all of the reasons that aren’t ‘he’s obviously in pain’ out of her mind, she decides that she doesn’t want to be too far from the fire, so she pulls their bedding down. She unfolds the sleeping bag and lays it flat, laying the other blankets on top. 

Staring down at the makeshift pallet, the possessive feeling from before simmers in her blood and she has to take some deep breaths to regain control over her feelings.

The front door opens and closes. She doesn’t turn to look at him, just carries on arranging the blankets.

She hears him bolt the front door and then walk over to the bucket in the corner. Doing her best to make some order of their things, but really just keeping her hands busy, she tries to ignore the sounds of washing. The splashing stops eventually and his steps are heavy as he walks over to her.

When he reaches her, she tries to look natural and calm as she turns, which is exceedingly hard to do because he’s come over in just his leather vest and her eyes are naturally drawn to the naked skin beneath the leather.

He sets his crossbow down and just looks at her. She smiles at him, telling herself that if she’s calm, he’ll be calm.

“Don’t know how good it’ll feel with that leather in the way,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything and just keeps staring. She nearly calls the whole thing off when he says, “It ain’t pretty. My back.”

She swallows and says, “Well, damn and here I was thinking we should start beauty pageants up again.”

He snorts and she knows she’s cracked through a barrier, if only a little. Trying to keep things light, she rolls her eyes and says, “Just lay down, Daryl.”

“Fine,” he says under his breath. Then the vest is off and he’s lying face down on the blankets and Beth’s doing her level best to not have any kind of reaction.

The reaction she’d like to have is crying her eyes out because dear God in heaven, who would dare to hurt this man? The boy he must have been when it happened. Her eyes trace the lines of the scars and he’s right, they aren’t pretty, but they’re similar to ones that her daddy had and she knows the last thing Daryl needs is her pity.

The second reaction she’d like to have is to scold him soundly for overdoing it. She can tell just by looking that his muscles are sore and tight. Some of the tension might be the fact that he’s just shown all his skeletons to her in one fell swoop, but a lot of it is down to too much physical labor. The spot on his side where the pig rushed him looks purple and blue where it curves around his side.

“Right,” she says rubbing her hands together and kneeling by his side. “I’m going to start on your shoulders and move down, okay? I’ll try to avoid where mama got you.”

“You’re the expert,” he says shifting a little so that his head’s propped up a little on his folded hands.

She studies his shoulders and gently, slowly lowers her hands to move over his skin. He jumps and twitches under her hands and she keeps her touch light and gentle, as though she’s calming one of the rescue animals that were sometimes dropped off at the farm. Her hands dig in slightly and he makes a pained sound. She stops.

“Did that hurt?” she asks, pitching her voice low.

“Yeah, but keep goin’,” he mutters. 

Letting herself smile, she starts again, this time digging in just that much more. She knew he was lean and that he was strong, but actually feeling the muscle slide beneath her fingers and palms is something else. Her face flushes hot and something shivers in her stomach and lower.

She very deliberately doesn’t trace the scars on his back, instead choosing to just massage the muscles one by one, but she can’t help but take notice of them. Her hands graze the raised skin over and over and by the fifth pass of her hands, he’s stopped twitching and seems to be approaching something close to relaxed. When she finds a particularly hard knot just at the base of his left shoulder blade, he groans.

“What the hell is that?” he asks into his hands.

“That is three days of digging without taking proper breaks. Not to mention fighting off a mama pig and walkers. You’re good, Daryl, but you’re only human, you know,” she says smoothing the pads of her fingers around and around the knotted muscle. Her hands start to ache as she applies more and more pressure, but she refuses to stop until he’s completely relaxed and every knot has been worked out.

After working on his left side, she starts on his right. He groans again when she finds another knot and she just chuckles.

She’s smoothing her hands along his spine when he asks, “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

“Watching other people, mostly,” she says. “I had a friend who was really good at these. She even had a book I looked at once.”

“You never done this before?” he asks turning his head to the side and she can just make out the glint of his eye through his hair.

“No,” she says moving her hands down to the base of his spine and then out along his lower back above the curve of his waist and figures that if her hands are brave enough to move across his flesh, then her voice can be brave enough to say what’s she thinking. “Never. I’ve never touched anyone like this. No one but you.”

She knows she’s said the wrong thing or maybe, as it turns out, the right thing, when he goes still under her hands. He even stops breathing. Her hands stop where they are splayed across his skin and she stares down at her pale, thin fingers where they lay on top of his flesh, her left index and middle fingers resting firmly along the deepest of his scars.

When he moves, it’s so fast that one moment she’s gazing down at his back, the next she’s sitting on his lap with her legs on either side of his thighs, his forehead pressing firmly to hers while his hands grip her hips.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me, girl?” he asks harshly. 

“Is it anything like what you’re doing to me?” she manages.

He shakes his head and his forehead is a warm, hot brand against her skin. “What do you mean by touching me like this?”

“I mean to touch you,” she says trying to regain some, any, calm and she slowly cups his face between her hands. “I’m telling the truth. I’ve never touched anyone like this before. I’ve never felt like this for anyone before.”

“What about that boy? At the farm?” he asks. “Zach?”

It’s her turn to shake her head and strands of her hair tangles with his. “No. They were…oh, I can’t speak bad about either of them, don’t ask me to. They were part of my life, but…not like this. Jimmy…we tried once. In his truck. But… God, I couldn’t. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t… Daryl. It wasn’t _this_.” She closes her eyes and whispers, “Nothing’s ever been like this. Please believe me.”

“It’s hard,” he says his voice low, but steady. “I… To believe. It’s hard.”

“I know,” she says opening her eyes to find his firmly on hers. “I’ll never ask for more than you want to give me.”

“Want to give you the world,” he says, stumbling over the words. “Not that that means much anymore.”

“It means everything,” she says smiling. “How could it not? You’re the only man I know that could do it, you know?”

“Shut up,” he says and as this seems to be the only way he can communicate how deeply he feels, he kisses her, soft and chaste. Her eyes flutter shut and her hands tremble where they cradle his face.

She shifts, trying to get closer to him and he freezes again. But then his mouth is moving hard on hers and she’s clutching at his shoulders and he’s curling his hands under her thighs and hauling her closer.

He’s so warm as she rocks closer to him and his skin is like fire under her palms and she has the urge to taste it, so she does. She kisses his jaw and then down along his throat and she doesn’t stop until she reaches the juncture of his neck and shoulder and she traces her tongue along the muscle there and his groans resonates through her whole body.

His hand sinks into her hair and he roughly pulls her back to his mouth and his tongue strokes against hers slow and deep and she can’t stop rocking her hips. On one particular roll, she gasps as something is struck inside of her. 

“Oh,” she says breathlessly against his mouth. “Oh, again. I don’t…”

His hands frame her hips and he moves her as he thrusts up and she gasps again. “Like that?” he asks in between kisses. “Want more?”

“Yes,” she says, her eyes falling shut and she can’t stop bearing down on his lap. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it,” he says moving her hips in time with his. “Make you feel good. Make you feel as good as you make me feel. You got this.”

It doesn’t take long before she’s coming, actually coming, fireworks exploding behind her eyes and pleasure sparking so hard in her veins it frightens her and she trembles in his arms and she buries her face against his neck as she tries to catch her breath.

Her eyes open and he’s staring at her with wider eyes than she’s ever seen on him and she can’t help it, she giggles as she tucks her face against his neck.

“You all right?” he asks hesitantly, his hand running up and down her spine trying to soothe her, but she just giggles even more.

She’s _beyond_ all right, if possibly a little embarrassed by how quick she’s just…

“I feel sorta silly,” she says against his skin. “I mean… You barely did anything and I’m… Oh, hell.”

He tugs at her hair and when she looks at him, her giggles stop as does any lingering embarrassment when she sees the look in his eyes. 

“You think I mind knowing that I can make you feel that good? You think that bothers me?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Maybe?” she whispers, staring at him.

His hand slips up under her sweater and shirt and she shivers at the feel of his broad palm slowly moving up her bare skin. His other hand flexes on her hip before smoothing down her thigh and then back up to join his other hand on her back beneath her clothes. His eyes remain locked on hers as he slowly moves both his hands up, her sweater bunching up around his wrists as he slowly caresses every inch of her back. She raises her arms and blinks slowly as he pulls her sweater and tank top off, leaving her in only her bra. Her hands fall to land on his chest, one palm covering his heart and she can feel the thrum of it and her own pulse speeds up to match.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says quietly.

She nods. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

“We don’t have to,” he starts to look uncertain, “I…don’t want to take advantage.”

Beth can’t help it she grins. “Daryl. I’m the one who told you to get on the floor. Plus you’re injured. Think if anyone’s taking advantage, it might be me.”

His eyes narrow and he palms her butt, pulling her close. “Ain’t that injured.”

“Prove it,” she breathes startling herself and him with her words and her daring. But they’re out there and she wouldn’t pull them back for the world and so it’s Beth that makes the first move, rising up on her knees and kissing him with everything she has.

His mouth opens under hers and she closes her eyes and just keeps kissing him, never wants to stop kissing him, never wants him to stop touching her, never wants to be further away from him than this.

At some point, her bra is removed and his mouth is warm and wet on her breasts and she holds his head in place while he licks and suckles and she can’t breathe the pleasure is so intense. More intense than anything she’s ever encountered before. His skin is hot under her hands as she traces the lines of muscles in his shoulders, his arms, biceps, triceps, then his chest and lower, across the tattoos he’s had etched into his skin.

It’s like he said earlier, it’s not pretty. There’s nothing even approaching finesse as they kiss and touch each other, Beth’s experienced enough to know that much. Hands move a bit too rough and quick and lips are clumsy when they come into contact with skin, but it doesn’t matter. It’s everything and more and the possessiveness that filled her earlier comes flooding in and she just _wants_ this man.

Despite their innate awkwardness, his hands are sure as they lift her off his lap to lay her on the blankets beneath them and she laughs with delight into his mouth at her sudden weightlessness.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she manages.

“Lighter than air, girl,” he says before going back to kissing her breasts, nosing at their soft undersides. His mouth keeps moving across her stomach and she curls her hands into his hair, lifting her head to watch him.

He pauses when he reaches her pants and looks up at her. Keeping her eyes on his, she sits up enough to reach for his belt. It’s uncomfortable because he doesn’t move and she has to stretch to reach it, but she manages to undo his belt.

And then she leans back and says, “I do mine. You do yours?”

He nods and then with a sense of urgency, they attack their own pants and shoes and the second she’s wriggled out of her jeans, he’s there, his mouth on hers as they fall back to the blankets.

His mouth is hot on hers and she has the sensation that she’s never truly been kissed before; that this is something completely different and deeper. Her skin feels over-sensitive, like tiny sparks of electricity are firing at different points across her body. The tips of her breasts where his chest hair rasps, the insides of her thighs where they cradle his hips, her neck where his lips press kiss after kiss and there’s an aching place deep inside her that feels empty and she strains beneath his body, rolling her hips up.

“Easy, easy,” he mumbles against her mouth and then he’s taking her hand in his and she makes a sound in the back of her throat when her fingers find him where he’s thick and hard. He groans when she brushes her fingers lightly against him. But then he’s wrapping her fingers around him and his hips are pressing forward. 

It’s awkward and odd and different, and it takes a moment for her to adjust enough, but then… Oh, then… He’s thrusting gently into her and yes, there’s a pinching sort of pain, but his mouth is on hers and his hand covers her breast and she moves her hips just a fraction of an inch…

They groan into each other’s mouth and she clutches at his waist and moves her hips again. And again. And again.

“Can’t,” he breathes, lifting his head to look down at her. “Beth. ‘S too good. I can’t…”

She just nods, she’s incapable of words, her breath’s been stolen from her; all she can do is hold on and watch and _feel_.

A voice in her head tells her, rather logically, that she’s read enough to know that she most likely won’t come again, so no one is more surprised than she is when he lifts up from her and drags his pelvis just so, and pure sensation shoots through her and she gasps.

He stops and looks down at her and she shakes her head, her fingers digging into his side as she says, “Don’t you dare stop, Daryl Dixon!”

He blinks once at her and then determination sets into his face and he moves once more. Beth’s eyes flutter shut and she moans. “Oh, God. How are you doing that?”

“Ain’t God doing this to you,” he says and she thinks she can hear a smirk in his voice, but she’s too close to being utterly blissed out to look.

He keeps up the slow, dragging thrusts until she’s practically shaking from the need for release and just as he moves, she moves and a wave of absolute blinding electricity sweeps over her. She arches her back as she cries out and there’s a sudden emptiness where there was once a warm fullness.

She opens her eyes to see him coming on her thighs with a hoarse shout and his body shudders. But then he lifts his eyes to hers and she can’t stop from smiling weakly at him.

With a grunt, he falls forward onto her, managing to not put his full weight on her, but pressing his face between her breasts. Her arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and her legs twine around his. He hugs her back and for several minutes, they stay there, their own heat wrapped around them.

Eventually, Daryl gets up and pulls his pants up and puts his shoes back on. He grabs a rag from his back pocket and wets it, then carefully cleans between Beth’s thighs. She shivers at the cool rag on her heated skin, but keeps her eyes on him.

He looks down at her and then up at the light that filters into the barn. “Well past mid-day, I reckon.”

“Hungry?” she asks, her voice a bit ragged.

He looks back at her and slowly lowers himself back down to cover her with his body. She smiles as he kisses her deeply and thoroughly and she runs her fingers through his hair.

Eventually, he rolls to his back, pulling her with him and she curls around him, still naked. He reaches for the edge of a blanket and wraps it around her. She presses her face to his side and frowns.

“I kinda grabbed you pretty hard there, towards the end,” she says. “Did I hurt your side?”

He snorts. “Ain’t in pain, girl. Far from it.”

She smiles and presses a kiss to the top of his ribs. “Good. Me neither.”

“You sure?” he asks. “You ain’t… I mean… Sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure,” she says running her hand slowly across his chest. She lifts her head and grins at him. “Ain’t in pain, neither.”

He makes a sound and rolls back on top of her, chasing her laughter with his mouth. Slowly, their kisses stop and he moves once again to his back with her curled around him.

“Should check the perimeter,” he says, his fingers tangled in wisps of her hair around her ears. “Should go on a proper hunt soon, too.”

“But not today?” she asks, looking at him. “I mean, yes, check the perimeter. But the hunt? I want to go with you when you go. I’m not letting you out of my sight anytime soon. I mean, I wasn’t going to before we…did this. But now?” She shakes her head. “Where you go, I go, Daryl Dixon. And don’t even think about telling me otherwise.”

Throughout her speech, his hand has slowly edged back and now it grips the back of her head and he lifts up to press his mouth to hers, brief and hard. When he pulls back, he says, “Bet your ass you’re coming with me, girl. Ain’t going anywhere without you.” He smirks slightly. “’Sides, your aim needs work.”

Her jaw drops open and she swats at his chest while he smirks at her. “My aim is awesome, thank you very much.”

He chuckles and she’s really left with no choice but to kiss him quiet.

It’s another good half hour before he gets up to check the perimeter.

* * *

They’ve been tracking a good-sized buck for three days now. The leaves beneath their feet are edged with frost and Beth’s nose and ears are bright pink from the cold, but she’s never felt more alert and sure in her life as she follows Daryl through the stark winter landscape.

He stops and kneels down slowly, Beth copying his movement. His eyes flicker to hers and then back in front; she sees the buck just up ahead. Puffs of vapor drift from the buck’s nose as it investigates the grass at the base of an old oak tree and Beth spares a moment to appreciate the beauty and the silence of the image. But then she shifts her focus back to Daryl, who’s looking at her. She stares back and he glances at her crossbow, silently asking if she wants to take the shot.

It’s tempting, but she shakes her head and smiles at him. He nods and turns back to the buck, easily lifting his crossbow.

When the bolt flies, it flies true and the buck falls to the ground, the last of his breath fading into the cold air.

Beth sighs in relief as they get to their feet and walk over to the deer.

“Gonna have to be quick about it,” Daryl says eyeing up the body. “Gut it up here and then carry as much as we can back with us.”

“Show me what to do and I’ll do it,” she says.

He looks at her for a long moment and then asks, “Why’d you pass up the shot?”

“I’ll get the next one,” she says shrugging.

“You that sure there’s gonna be a next one?” he asks, getting out his knife and gesturing for her to get hers ready.

“Yep,” she says before pressing a kiss to his lips, and even after all they’ve done and the ways they’ve kissed each other, he still manages to blush when she shows affection and doesn’t that make her warm in ways she’ll show him later. “I’m sure. I’m sure of us.”

“Crazy girl,” he says chuckling and pulling the deer towards them.

She grins at him and knows it’s not crazy to believe that there will be more chances. It’s hope.

She has no hope that this world will be anything other than hard and rough and terrible.

However, she sure as anything has hope in the two of them. Hope that they can be a united front against whatever the world decides to throw at them.

But she pushes those thoughts to the side and kneels beside Daryl on the forest floor and they dress the deer as they do everything. 

Together.

The End.


End file.
